


Silverfox74

by Mianmaru



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: Blind Date, First Dates, First Kiss, First Time, Frottage, Internet Dating, Johnstrade, M/M, Making Out, awkward first date
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-02
Updated: 2017-06-02
Packaged: 2018-11-08 04:55:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11074479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mianmaru/pseuds/Mianmaru
Summary: Blind dates are a good way to move on from the endless chatting online, aren't they?





	Silverfox74

**Author's Note:**

> Ok. This was a difficult one because... Johnlock. Everything else is ooc to me BUT Johnstrade is sooooooo bloody hot.
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

Greg realised the flaw in his plan as soon as he entered the pub. Annoyed at himself, he made his way towards the last separee at the bar as, with a nod, the bartender removed the small red sign marking the table as reserved while Greg slit onto the corner seat.

 

His idea had been simple and logical. After 3 weeks of chatting online with someone who loved rugby, was interested in action films and had a bloody amazing sense of humor, Greg had deemed it time to meet in person. Anxiously watching the door, he rolled his eyes at the idea to wear rugby shirts as an identification. 

On match day. 

  
  


The door had already opened several times as a group of four, completely dressed in team colours and already more than tipsy, entered the pub singing at the top of their lungs. Greg watched them, trying to asses if they’d turn into a problem for other guests before anybody got to see a minute of the match. He was so distracted, that he almost missed the short blond entering right after.

 

_ Shit. _ John Watson. Fitting right in with the rest of the crowd he gave him a friendly wave before heading straight to the bar. Greg wasn’t very keen on an audience for his first date with a man since 1997 but just as he began to hope that he wouldn’t have to explain himself, John took his beer and casually came strolling over to sit down opposite him.

 

“Hey, John. I’m sorry but…” He started apologetically. 

 

“You got a date.” John interrupted with an easy smile.

 

“I actually do. So, as soon as...Wait. How do you know?” He didn’t actually care but, having barely stopped himself from saying his dates ridiculous profile name, a diversion was needed.

 

“Well, if you actually want to know…” John sounded dubious but continued, anyway. “...You’re sitting alone in a separee for two. The least lit one. If you just wanted to avoid company while watching the match, you’d still have chosen a better angle to the screen. Obviously your date isn’t here, yet. No bag or coat, no drink or empty glass…. And I watched you through the window and saw the panic in your eyes everytime the door opened. Nice shirt, by the way.” He grinned confidently.

 

“Ta! You spend way too much time with Sherlock. S’pose I was quite obvious, though.” Greg said before he downed half of his beer.

 

“As are other things.” John added. “How do you like my shirt?” He asked, turning so that Greg was able to see the back.

 

“Nice. Played in university?” The DI watched the pub door swing open once again.

 

“Greg?” John tried his best to sound demanding.

 

“What?” The older inquired with raised eyebrows.

The only answer he got was silence and an expectant expression on John’s face.

_ Ok. That probably means I am meant to notice something obvious. Rugby shirt. Smooth face. Bit of product in his hair. Well, it's date night for him too, I suppose. _

 

_ Oh.  _

 

“Oh.” Well, that was… interesting. 

  
  
  


“Let’s just watch the match, ok?” John asked, only to slide into Greg’s corner without waiting for an answer.

 

Apparently, there wouldn’t be a discussion about the awkwardness of it all but the DI still had questions.

 

“You knew I was your date when you saw me through the window?”

 

“I was pretty sure, yeah.” John said, his eyes on the TV across the room.

 

“And you still came in?”

 

“Obviously. Wouldn’t want to miss out on  _ Silverfox73 _ .” John’s cheeky grin was accompanied by the shortest, most suggestive clap to his thigh Greg had ever experienced.

 

“You are one to talk,  _ ClarinetStudent01. _ ” He mumbled as he waved his empty glass at the bartender. 

 

*****

 

This was so not a date. At least not a date like the ones Greg remembered having in his youth.

 

For one, his former dates did not yell at the TV or the people standing in front of it. They didn't insult rugby players in every second sentence, either. And they definitely did not tell him “to just open his old eyes if he didn't see that there were only idiots on the field”. 

 

But he had a good time. A very good time, to be honest. 

Every few minutes, he found himself glancing at John's face. Watching him for signs of discomfort or uncertainty. Strangely enough, Greg got the impression that John was enjoying himself tremendously.

 

Unsettling that. Especially considering the fact that John looked.. good. Good in a masculine, confident way that Greg could absolutely not find in himself at that moment. 

 

“I'm not disappointed that it was you.” John stated matter-of-fact. “I ran faster with a bloody crutch, you twat!” He added loudly.

 

“You are a bit weird, aren't you?” Was the only thing the silver-haired man managed to reply as he gladly accepted the new piece of information.

 

“I know weirder people.” John said with a grin.

 

“No surprise there.”

 

******

 

He hadn't recognised him at first. Strange but true. With the banner covering a big part of the window, the only things John saw were calloused hands and short silver-grey hair. 

 

He stood outside for long minutes trying to find the bravery to enter the pub. Applying Sherlock's methods to identify his date had been easier than expected but calming down enough to dare go through with his first serious date in years had been something else entirely.

 

And then, suddenly,  _ Silverfox74  _ had moved just so that John was able to see his face and…. Be glad?

 

3 weeks ago, they had agreed not to talk about work or anything that might prove to be a too personal topic. Had even avoided names and locations.

 

They had wanted a fresh start. Both of them. And a fresh start was exactly what they had achieved. While John digested the initial shock at his own reaction, he also noted the giddiness that he felt. The bone deep excitement. The evening was certainly going to be interesting. And hopefully not a big failure. 

 

Trying for nonchalance, John followed the entering guests inside.

 

******

Forty minutes into the match and Greg already felt tipsy. Not a first but a rare event nonetheless. It did boost his confidence enough to try and start a conversation.

 

“So… You and Sherlock are not… monogamous.” He mumbled into the space between them.

 

Almost suffocating on the beer in his mouth, John vigorously shook his head. “I…” He coughed hard. “I am not shagging Sherlock Holmes!” His voice was scandalised and annoyed at the same time. Mostly it was loud, though.

 

The men closest to them fell silent, looking at each other with awkward amusement. Fortunately, the moment ended quickly as one of them mumbled “Well, me neither.” in a quiet, regretful way and the others made a mocking  _ Awwwww  _ sound in return before turning their attention back at the match.

 

“Sorry.” Greg whispered. “I didn't mean to… you know… just assume but… apparently I did.”  _ Shit.  _

 

“Do you think  _ ClarinetPlayer01 _ would meet with you only to shag?” John asked, his face serious. “Or do you only assume, John Watson would?”

 

“I don't know John Watson that well.  _ ClarinetPlayer01,  _ though… No, I don't think he would.” Greg conceded thoughtfully.

 

Apparently, his answer satisfied John and he gave him an easy smile in return.

 

“See?” He replied, putting his hand on Greg's under the table. “John Watson learned the clarinet at school.”

 

“I think I should find out more about that guy.” The older said as he summoned all of his bravery and forced his hand to remain where it was.

 

*******

Faking confidence had served him well for the past 20 plus years. But right now, with his heart racing and the slight tingle somewhere beneath his ribs, he was especially thankful for having mastered that specific trait. 

 

John did remember the last time he’d felt that particular tingle in his guts. 

He had been 24 and just about to join the army. It still felt foreign to imagine his future  as he was sitting at the bar of his favorite pub. While he was contemplating his life-choices, a man sat down beside him. At first, John was too lost in thought to notice the stranger watching him. 

Or the hand on his knee.

Of course, nothing had happened but a tense conversation. It took John another four years to come to terms with his sexuality. But that feeling. That full-body shudder and the tingling sensation spreading from his heart downwards. 

John had looked into hazel eyes and thought  _ Oh. Ok, I guess. _

 

Sometimes, he looked back and wondered what it would have been like if he had just rolled with it that evening.

 

*****

Greg's fingers were treacherously shaking as he tried to match his date's calmth. A short fond look from John let him know that he wasn't succeeding. 

 

“1997 was a long time ago.” He said, staring at the TV without actually keeping track of the record.

 

“A long marriage you had there.” John replied in a fashion that suggested that Greg's marriage was a topic to be considered at a later point in time.

 

They had not really discussed the unhappy bond before and, looking back, Sherlock's frequent deductions made that evaluation completely unnecessary.  _ Fortunately.  _ It was not something that Greg enjoyed talking about.

 

“How long have you known that you are bisexual?” John asked cautiously.

 

“Gay. But… 1998?” Honesty was the only course of action Greg knew how to take after lying to himself for almost 2 decades.

 

“Well, shit.”

 

“Yeah, yeah. I know. Pretty stupid.” He knew now. “Sherlock didn't tell you?” 

 

“If you did not walk around telling everybody, he doesn't know. Or care. Or even wonder. Sexuality is really not his area.” John simply stated.

 

“Does he know about you?” Greg thought aloud.

 

At that, the smiling army doctor turned towards him. “I hit on him the day we met. It was pretty embarrassing.” His tone was confidential. “Wouldn't do it again.” He added laughing.

 

“Damn! I wish I could've seen that.” The image in Greg's head was hilarious. Taken-off-guard-but-still-aloof Sherlock and a too optimistic John, trying to overcome complete awkwardness. 

 

It rarely happened these days but before John had entered Sherlock's life, there had been the occasional police man and woman who had dared to come on to the ethereal Consulting Detective. It always served to entertain Greg.

 

Grinning, he leant closer to the blond to suggestively ask “Am I right to assume that you are hitting on me right now?”. 

 

“Is that an invitation?” John inquired, whispering into Greg's ear. His lips almost touching the shell, it was clear that the goosebumps he caused were intentional and welcome.

 

“You want me to write it down?” Greg drawled as he raised an eyebrow and leant back to lock eyes with the cheeky army doctor. 

 

Assessing his facial expression first, John eventually shook his head in a strange combination of amusement and reply.

 

“Another?” He asked, raising his empty glass.

 

“I am not opposed.”

 

*****

 

**3 New Messages**

**John Watson**

**Sherlock is done with the case files. Notes are attached. Send someone to pick them up. - John**

 

**John Watson**

**Sherlock says, you need to talk to the receptionist. - John**

 

**John Watson**

**You didn't call. - CP01**

 

Suddenly uncomfortable, Greg squirmed in his chair. Three days after his date with  _ ClarinetPlayer01 _ , he hadn't dared to call John or even show up in Baker Street to drop off the old case files that Sherlock had demanded.

 

It was embarrassing, really. A grown man like him getting so bloody pissed that he didn't even remember leaving the pub. He had startled awake around 10 am the next day, fully dressed and with a hangover the size of Big Ben. While he had freed himself of his sticky shirt and jeans, Greg had tried very hard to remember the way home. But all that came to him were short bits and pieces. One being him, falling flat on his face and a giggling John Watson helping him up.

 

The memory made a sudden appearance in Greg's mind, forcing a groan from deep in his chest. John probably thought he had a drinking problem. If he could just remember how they had separated that evening, he'd know how much he had annoyed his date.

 

Although…

John had waited the obligatory 3 days. Had sent a message seeking contact. So, maybe it wasn't as bad as Greg had feared. Better get it over with.

 

**I don't remember anything after the fifth beer. - Greg**

 

He dropped the internet-names thing. In the end, they were John and Greg and not anonymous cyber-daters. Better get rid of the act.

 

**You hit your head pretty hard on the concrete. Should have checked on that. It was too bloody funny, though. - John**

 

**I remember. Ta. Sorry, I didn't call. - Greg**

 

**Do you cook? - John**

 

**Not right now but in general, yes. - Greg**

 

**See? You are perfectly able to make it up to me then. - John**

 

With a small smile, Greg put the phone in his pocket and decided to wait another day before he’d invite John over.

 

*****

3 days later, Greg stood in his kitchen. Wearing his tightest pair of jeans and a black dress shirt while he waited for the doorbell. 

He felt more like himself now that he knew that it would be John he was meeting. The initial shock hadn't survived the beer Greg had drowned it in and all that was left was a buzzing of excitement in the DI’s belly. 

 

Only 20 minutes earlier, Greg had prepared a homemade pizza and put it in the oven. Thoughtfully, he had managed to spread the various toppings just so that every slice was different. 

 

John had offered to bring the drinks, so there was one thing less for the silver-haired man to worry about as he planned the evening.

 

Instead of the expected high screeching of his doorbell, Greg heard a knock on the door.

Suppressing the fluttering sensation in his chest and straightening his back, he opened the door only to be greeted by a tired-looking army doctor.

 

“Hey, I know I’m late but Sherlock…” Greg pressed him against the closing door. The loud bang did nothing to drown out John's surprised grunt. Following the sudden impulse, Greg delved right in. He carefully touched his lips to John's in a mere imitation of a kiss. He’d missed the feeling of a mouth against his. Catching the shorter man's lower lip between his, he slid one hand around the  sturdy waist. 

Only for a second, Greg let his fingers rest on the curve of John's behind before he pulled away completely.

 

John looked a bit dizzy as he raised a sixpack of beer dangling from his right hand. “Hello.” He said uselessly while Greg motioned him towards the parlour, taking the beer from his weak grasp.

 

“What was that for?” John yelled after him. “Oh, you know… Just for being a gentleman while I was heavily intoxicated.” Greg's smile was almost painful.

“Is there anything you don't like on your pizza?” 

“Severed fingers.” John replied, standing in the kitchen door. “Don't ask.” He added, obviously appreciating the view when Greg bent down to get the pizza out of the oven.

 

“There's cold beer in the fridge. Middle-shelf.” Greg mumbled, trying to sound casual but failing.

“Lovely.” The army doctor played along as he took two bottles out and opened them.

 

“Ok… So, no severed fingers for you. Cheese and bacon’s fine?” Greg asked while cutting the pizza into slices and feeling John's gaze on his back.

 

“Sure. Do you have any films we could watch?” They hadn't actually made plans for the evening apart from eating and hanging out but Greg was confident they'd not get bored.

 

“There's a small selection on the couch table. Go choose one. I'll be there in a sec’.” 

  
  


When he entered his parlour, John was just falling back onto the couch after putting the DVD in the player.

 

“You know this thing called Netflix?” The blond teased, waving the DVD box at him.

 

“That’s something for people who have time to watch TV.” Greg replied lightly. “So? What are we watching?”

 

“The only one without Sandra Bullock or Tom Hanks in it.” John said with an audible eye roll. “This might be a date but I prefer something with a bit more action.”

 

The TV interrupted their little banter as Greg put the plates on the table. Admittedly, the DI had been at a loss considering the film they'd watch so he had chosen four DVDs he thought of as romantic and one he actually wanted to watch. Prometheus had been on his to-watch-list for quite a while. He'd always liked Alien and Sci-Fi, in general.

 

“Ta. I hoped you'd chose this one.” Sitting down, he gave John an easy smile before he huddled just a tiny bit closer to the warm presence beside him. With satisfaction, he noted how comfortable they settled in for the evening, taking big bites of pizza and enjoying the others company.

 

********************

At some point during the first half of the film, John had managed to sneak his hand on Greg's knee, letting it rest as if it belonged there. Their thighs were barely touching but the minor amount of warmth wandering from one body to another served as a reminder that this was more than a night in with one of the boys.

 

Greg had been distracted to say the least. That kiss against the door replayed endlessly as the crew of the Prometheus explored the dark pits of an unknown spaceship. And this time, John didn't seem as calm and in control as he had on their first date. He kept on crossing and uncrossing his legs as if unable to find a comfortable position on the big brown leather couch.

 

“I’ll have another.” Greg said, raising his empty bottle. “You?”

 

“Sure.”

  
  
  


“I was just wondering…. That kiss. When I came here… You think, you could do that again but longer?” John asked with false casualty when Greg re-entered the parlour.

 

“I think, I could.” The DI said, trying to appear as if he wasn't bursting with the need to feel John again. Calmly, he put the bottles on the table and sat back in the middle of the couch.

 

“Good story, innit?” He asked, bare able to suppress his teasing grin as he fixed his gaze on the screen.

 

“You utter prick!” John replied laughing as he turned completely to his left, one knee on the couch and his right hand on Greg's thigh. The DI didn't get the chance to do anything but roll with it as John pulled his head closer and leant in. 

_ Finally. _

 

Their lips touched softly. Minimal contact of sensitive skin. John chose a much more romantic approach than Greg had done. Slowly, he combed his fingers through the hair in Greg's neck as he explored the texture and taste of the DI's mouth. 

He took his time, obviously planning to enjoy every second. The moment his tongue made contact with Greg's, the older promptly remembered that he had hands of his own. Without further ado, he pulled John closer. As close as possible without interrupting what they were doing. And there it was. That tingling sensation in his chest. John was kneeling over him, hands pushed deep into silver hair. Holding him in place while moist lips pressed and sucked and pulled on his.

 

Greg was able to smell aftershave and detergent as he let his hands wander over John's back and waist. God. He felt fantastic. Excited but at ease. The feeling of fabric under his fingertips highlighted by the intense contact of lips on his neck as John moved on to taste more skin. The slight hint of stubble a reminder of long suppressed desire and need.

 

And even though he regretted the years he had spent trying to be someone else, with John almost in his lap and the arousal building deep inside, Greg did not manage to feel sorry for himself.

 

“Can you probably go on doing that for the foreseeable future?” He mumbled into John's shoulder, tilting his head to allow more space to the blond's ministrations.

 

“I am not planning to stop anytime soon.” The words were breathed onto his skin.

 

Greg softly massaged the inside of John’s thighs with his thumbs while he allowed himself to get lost in the onslaught of sensation. Goosebumps spread over his back and chest as he felt teeth against his skin.

“Yes.” He whispered, hazy with pleasure. 

John groaned from deep in his chest before he began to lightly bite the reddened skin covering Greg’s pulse point.

 

The simple act charged the air between them. Suddenly, the line between arousal and need vanished, urging Greg to pull on John’s hips. Pull until John knelt up looking down at him. Having to be closer. Having to feel all of the other, immediately. 

He pressed his head to the chest in front of him and felt the hardness against his ribs answering his own. John used the hand in his hair to pull Greg's head backwards. Pressing a hard, demanding kiss on welcoming lips. 

The blond's hips moving in involuntary thrusts as they locked eyes for the first time in minutes.

 

“Good?” John mumbled pulling his shirt loose from his jeans.

“Very.” Greg sighed while he pushed his hands under the offending fabric separating him from unknown skin. 

With a look, he invited the next kiss. His fingertips slid over John's sturdy back around to the soft belly, hands coming to rest on the blond's belt buckle. “Ok?” He asked, breaking the constant movement of lips and tongue. In lieu of an answer, John kissed him again. Harder this time. Lifting his knee to push it between Greg's legs and providing the DI with friction he hadn't realised he needed. The belt hit the floor with a metallic  _ clunk!.  _ Mere seconds later, John groaned throwing his head back. Greg was glad about it. No kiss to distract him. He wanted to see and feel. He'd been waiting so long. Half his life, if he was honest. 

 

He watched his hand close around John's straining erection. Moving it cautiously up and down the hard shaft before he let his thumb circle the pronounced head.  _ I want to lick it. _ The thought made him grin. Mumbling “Definitely gay.” before leaning in and closing his lips around the tip of John's cock. Above him, Greg heard a giggle being interrupted by a harsh intake of breath. The silky feeling between his lips was as satisfying as he'd imagined it. Lightly, he sucked and kissed the tempting piece of flesh. Inexperience excelled by eagerness, Greg was pleased by the noises he drew from John. By the hardness against his tongue and the taste of precome in his mouth. Small but growing motions of his head giving the pleasure he himself hadn't felt in a long time.

But soon, Greg's jaw began to ache. Too soon for his liking anyway, so he reverted back to where he had started. His calloused hand on John's sensitive cock.

 

His movements were bolder now. Right hand rubbing the shaft faster while he started to nibble the skin of John's belly, letting his left rest on a taut behind. 

The knee between his legs pressed more forcefully against his own, by now, leaking arousal. Struggling with the coordination of his movements, Greg lightly pushed his hips forward. 

It was glorious. It was almost too much to handle. Everything he wanted handed to him on a silver platter. 

He leant back, sinking further into the couch to be able to see John's face without losing the friction against his cock.

His hand moving in a steady rhythm he had only ever used on himself.

Greg felt the zipper of his tight jeans press uncomfortably against his trapped erection but it did nothing to diminish his body's demand for more. 

John's eyes were closed tight. The blonde bit his lower lip as he dug his fingers into Greg's shoulder while nearing his release. He wanted to see him come. Wanted to know that it was his doing. But his own body began to demand more and more of his attention. John's involuntary thrusts managing to provide just the right amount of barely-there contact to drive Greg closer to the edge.

 

Letting go of the hip, Greg let his fingers of his left cradle the inner side of John's thighs only to press them softly against the root of the other man's cock.

“Fuck, Greg.” Blue eyes shot open as John fixed him with a lustful gaze. Breathing heavily through open mouths, neither of them broke eye contact as the blond began to tense above Greg. Only when the release shook his body completely, John's eyes fell close again, his semen spilling over the DI's shirt, jeans and hand. 

Greg didn't care. He didn't care about anything but the imminent need to thrust, rub, come.

Urgently, he pulled the pliant body above him by the hips. Pressing against a muscular, jeans clad thigh with more need than he was able to handle. “Yes. Come on.” He heard John's words of encouragement through the fog of ecstasy as his fingers clenched around sturdy hips.

“John.” He groaned desperately, his head dropped forward.

“Yes! Do it.” The blond spurred on before biting Greg's neck, hard.

“Oh, ffff…” The pulse was loud in his ears as the world around him grew brighter for a second. His legs wedging around John's thigh, Greg's cock pulsed vigorously as his own release finally had him trembling. 

Still thrusting, he just couldn't stop, he forced his hand to let go of John's hips. He was still shaking, still not done spending himself, when John kissed him again. Just a soft brush of lips but it had Greg melting as his orgasm subsided, leaving him spent and exhausted.

 

Lying in a heap as they were, content, they took their time to recover.

  
  


Greg was just about to doze off when John got up, pressing a kiss onto his head.

Immediately alert, he asked “You leaving?”.

 

“Just heading to the loo.” John said looking around. “If you tell me where it is, that is.”

 

Pointing to his left Greg replied “Through the bedroom.”.

 

Suddenly less relaxed without John, he noticed the sticky feeling between his legs.

Before he had a chance to act on the discomfort, John stuck his head through the door. He looked endearingly rumpled to Greg.

 

“I think I need a shower and I am pretty sure you do to. Want to join me?” The blond asked with a boyish expression on his face.

 

“That's a bloody amazing idea.” Greg replied, meaning it.

 

*******

  
  


The water had already been running when John had remembered that he actually needed to use the loo. Taking his forgetfulness as a compliment, Greg waited outside. When John called him in a minute later, the DI was greeted by the sight of a naked, wet army doctor under his shower.

 

Painfully aware of his relaxed post-orgasm, post-pizza belly, he stepped into the shower cubicle and waited for John to acknowledge his presence. He expected him to let his gaze linger on the softer bits of his body but the blond man surprised him again, taking the shower gel and beginning to massage his complete front without further ado.

 

Just as Greg had managed to let himself enjoy the treatment, John began to speak.

 

“So… That was your first time with a man since the 90’s?” 

 

Greg tensed. “That noticeable?”

 

“No. Not at all.” John smiled, slightly blushing as he busied himself kneading Greg's arms.

 

“I just thought… If you wanted to, you know, explore that being gay thing… I don't expect you to feel obligated to do that with me, you know. If you would be willing though, I wouldn't mind repeating what we just did. It's up to you, really.” John turned away from him, holding his face into the hot spray of water.

 

“Are you finished?’ Greg asked cautiously.

 

“Yeah. I think I've been.. um… clear enough.”

 

“John?” Greg turned the mumbling man around before pushing him backwards against the cubicle wall. Feeling the hot water on his chest wash down his skin, he let John see his smirk.

“I am disgustingly happy right now. So, would you please shut up and kiss me?” 

 

“You sure?” John’s face was more hopeful than his question.

 

“I don't know shit about being gay and I am honestly not sure how much I want to find out. But I'd prefer to explore that with you.” He said, going for straight forward rather than delicate.

 

Suddenly John's face was overtaken by such a strong wave of relief that Greg couldn't wait for the blond to kiss him first.

Enjoying the fluttering sensation that spread through his body, he put his lips to better use than talking. Hot water ran down his back, only interrupted by John's roaming hands.

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry that this was completely written on my bloody phone using Google docs. I hope it was still readable, though.


End file.
